


Marshmallows & Yams

by superrich



Series: What Happens on Hiatus [8]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Los Angeles, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:05:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7150520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superrich/pseuds/superrich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost a month of waking up in the same bed anywhere would be nice, given how much they’ve moved around over the past few years. Almost a month of waking up in the same bed with Harry has been, well, pretty incredible.</p><p>“How many different beds do you think you’ve slept in, since 2010?” Niall asks.</p><p>“Hmmm, is this a trick question?” Harry says, eyes on the road as he steers his new Audi up into the hills above West Hollywood.</p><p>“No!” Niall laughs. “I’m not asking how many different people you’ve slept with in those beds. I actually don’t want to know,” he adds, laughing nervously. “I mean, it must be hundreds and hundreds, if not thousands, right?” </p><p>“Beds, not people,” Harry clarifies, nodding.</p><p>Niall reaches over to squeeze his thigh. “It’s been nice waking up in the same bed for the last month. With you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marshmallows & Yams

**Author's Note:**

> Bringing this hiatus fic back from its own mini hiatus. Because who doesn't love Thanksgiving in June.

"Marshmallows. We need marshmallows," Harry declares as soon as they enter the farmers' market, and strides towards a stall decorated with pastel bunting.

Niall trails after him, automatically wrinkling his face in disgust.

"And don't make that face, Niall," he warns, even though his back is to Niall and he couldn't possibly have seen it.

"Are we really doing this?" Niall asks, sounding sceptical.

"Of _course_ we are. It's culturally appropriate," Harry insists, as he starts examining clear cellophane bags filled with artisanal confectionery.

"It's unnatural, is what it is. I mean, you know I'll eat just about anything. But, as an Irishman, it's practically sacrilegious to serve potatoes with marshmallows."

"Sweet," Harry drawls, grinning at Niall.

Niall looks back at him, wrinkling his brow in confusion.

"It's _sweet_ potatoes, for a start, which by name suggest they _can_ be paired with other similarly sweet foodstuffs. And, it's our first Thanksgiving, and I promised the Azoffs we would bring something, and I'm really looking forward to impressing everyone with our culinary prowess."

And the way that Harry is bursting with enthusiasm about this most American of holidays makes Niall feel bad for not getting around him.

"OK," Niall sighs. "How about you take care of the marshmallows, and I'll go and scrounge up some sweet potatoes. How does that sound?"

Harry beams at him, then turns to ask the guy running the stall if rose water-infused marshmallows will pair nicely with yams.

Niall returns 10 minutes later, laden with several kilos of an obscure variety of heirloom sweet potatoes, to find the marshmallow man snapping a selfie with Harry. Harry continues grinning as he waves a large paper bag at Niall.

"I couldn't decide which flavour to work with, so I just got them all," he says, slinging an arm around Niall's shoulders. "I'm pretty sure this is going to be the _best_ Thanksgiving _ever_ ," he adds, squeezing Niall's arm with excitement.

∞∞∞∞

They have to stop by Ben and Meredith’s house on the way home - or technically, on the way back to Harry’s house, although Niall has already started to think of it as home. It’s been almost a month since they got back to LA, and Niall has only been to his own house once, to pick up his car and some clothes and the golf clubs he keeps here.

Almost a month of waking up in the same bed anywhere would be nice, given how much they’ve moved around over the past few years. Almost a month of waking up in the same bed with Harry has been, well, pretty incredible.

“How many different beds do you think you’ve slept in, since 2010?” Niall asks.

“Hmmm, is this a trick question?” Harry says, eyes on the road as he steers his new Audi up into the hills above West Hollywood.

“No!” Niall laughs. “I’m not asking how many different people you’ve slept with in those beds. I actually don’t want to know,” he adds, laughing nervously. “I mean, it must be hundreds and hundreds, if not thousands, right?”

“Beds, not people,” Harry clarifies, nodding.

Niall reaches over to squeeze his thigh. “It’s been nice waking up in the same bed for the last month. With you.”

“Nice? Really?” Harry asks, sounding mock offended. “I would hope that the generous number of morning blow jobs I’ve imparted over that time would be described as a little more than nice, Niall! Unless my blow job game is slipping.”

“No, not at all!” Niall laughs. “Let me try again: it has been _mind-blowingly incredible_ to wake up in the same bed, next to you, for this past month, Harry Styles.”

“The pleasure,” Harry says, grinning, as he turns the car up  a steep driveway, “has been all mine.”

Ben comes out to greet them as they park the car at the top of the driveway, an over-excited bundle of blonde hair bouncing beside him.

“Come here, Colin,” Niall calls out as soon as he swings the car door open, and a moment later the cockapoo is all over him.

“I’ve missed you so much, little buddy,” Niall says to him, crouching down to pepper the dog with kisses. “So, so much.”

“Ahem,” Ben coughs. “And me? Where’s the love?”

“Aw, we’ve missed you too,” Harry says, stepping out of the car and walking over to wrap Ben in his arms. “Little buddy,” he adds, ruffling Ben’s hair and smacking a big, wet kiss on his cheek.

“Now, that’s more like it,” Ben says, smirking. “Good to see you, H.”

Meredith comes out to join them a moment later.

“Do you lads have time to stay for a cuppa?” she asks. “I’ve just put the kettle on.”

Harry checks his watch. “Ah, we’d love to, Meri, but we’re going over to the Gerbers’ for dinner, and we should probably get this little fella settled in before we have to head out.”

“Well, thanks again for looking after Colin while we’re in Cabo,” Meri says. “We really appreciate it.”

“Pfffft,” Ben snorts. “If you’d seen the way they’d begged me to let him stay with them, you’d think we were the ones doing them a favour, heading out of town for Thanksgiving.”

“Speaking of which,” Harry says, “you still haven’t told us if we can look after him for you over Hanukkah.”

“What? You’re not heading home for Christmas?” Meredith asks, sounding surprised.

“Nah, we thought it might be fun to bring our families out here instead,” Niall says, diverting his attention from doting over the dog. “Get everyone together for Christmas in LA.”

“It’s been so nice to go this long without having to get on a plane, you know, to just stay in one place, we kind of want to see how long we can make it last,” Harry adds. “Make our families do the jetting around instead.”

“Of course, I can imagine,” Meredith says, nodding. “And I guess you’ll be straight back into it next year, right? When’s the album coming out?”

“Ah, the million dollar question!” Ben chimes in.

“Well, that would depend, dear Meri, on when your husband has time to produce a music video for me, wouldn’t it?” Niall says, raising his eyebrows at Ben.

“Touché,” Ben says, grinning and shaking his head. “Let’s talk when I’m back from Mexico, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Niall says, reaching out a clenched fist to bump with Ben’s.

They load Colin’s bed and food and toys into the boot of the car, and Ben and Meredith smother the dog with hugs before letting him jump into the backseat of the Audi. They then smother Harry and Niall with a few more hugs, before finally letting them leave.

As they roll down the driveway Niall reaches back to stroke Colin’s back, then turns to squeeze Harry’s shoulder.

“At last, he’s all ours,” Niall says, and follows it up with an evil cackle.

“Well, for the next few days at least,” Harry says, grinning back at him.

“Hmmm, that’s what they think,” Niall muses. “Possession is nine tenths of the law, right? Maybe we just spoil him rotten, then let him decide who he wants to stay with?”

Harry laughs. “At what point should I start to be jealous of a dog?”

“Don’t worry,” Niall assures him, “I’ve got a whole lot of love to share around.” He leans over to press a quick kiss into Harry’s cheek and adds, “but I’m saving most of it for you.” 

∞∞∞∞

They have just enough time to get Colin settled in at home and unpack their haul from the farmers’ market before being picked up to head out to Malibu.

Dinner at the Gerbers’ house is always an artfully laid back affair, usually involving a generous amount of tequila, and tonight is no exception. Rande keeps insisting Niall sample ever more exclusive blends of tequila vintages, while at the same time dishing out business and investment advice, which Niall wishes he was sober enough to take in. 

Down the other end of the table, Harry has countless questions about working with Mario Testino for Cindy and the kids. Or teenagers, rather, although it still seems like just yesterday that Cindy turned up backstage at one of their first LA shows with Kaia and a gaggle of elementary school friends. 

When they slip into the back seat of the Range Rover at the end of the night, Niall slides up close to Harry and rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Remind me in the morning to write down everything Rande was telling me about going into business with your best friend.”

He sits up a bit straighter when he feels Harry’s hand slipping into his pocket, before realising Harry is going for Niall’s phone.

“The trick, Niall, is to record these things straight away, before you forget them,” Harry says, flicking through the apps on Niall’s phone to bring up a voice memo. “Speak,” he commands, holding the phone in front of Niall’s face.

Without missing a beat, Niall slips into his best American accent, albeit slightly slurring his words. “Welcome to Words of Wisdom with Rande Gerber. On today’s episode we’re going to cover one of my fundamental rules of business, which I like to sum up in four words: dream drunk, budget sober, or… ouch!”

Niall’s nose slams into the phone as their driver, Brad, brakes suddenly.

“Sorry, sir,” Brad says from the driver’s seat. “Are you alright?” he asks, looking in the rear vision mirror.

Niall nods, while tentatively touching his nose to make sure nothing is broken.

“Coyotes,” Brads adds, gesturing at the road in front, where the headlights illuminate a pair of wild dogs slinking their way across the Pacific Coast Highway. “They’re a menace.”

“I think he’ll live,” Harry says, leaning in to gently brush his lips over Niall’s nose, the scent of tequila heavy on his breath.

“You smell drunk,” Niall giggles, closing his eyes and sinking back into the seat as the car starts moving forward again.

He feels a finger stroke slowly across his bottom lip, followed by slightly-chapped lips.

“So do you,” Harry says a moment later, resting a hand on Niall’s thigh. “I like it when you’re a little bit drunk.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall says, eyes still closed, starting to breathe a little more deeply.

“Yes. You’re very… adventurous, when you’re a little bit drunk,” Harry goes on, sliding his hand slightly further up Niall’s leg. “The problem, though, is when you’re a little bit more than a little bit drunk. Because then you just get very sleepy. So, which is it tonight, Niall? How drunk are you?”

“Mmmmmm, nosso drunk....” Niall says softly, already drifting off, and he’s asleep before he can hear Harry sigh deeply, or feel him gently slide Niall’s head over to rest on his shoulder again.

∞∞∞∞

Niall wakes up the next morning with a cracking hangover and gym clothes being flung at his head.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Harry declares, with much more enthusiasm than Niall can handle in his fragile state. “We’re going for a run.”

Niall just groans and buries his head under the pillows, willing himself back to sleep until the pounding inside his head subsides.

His hopes are thwarted when the doona is cruelly yanked off of him, and Harry grabs him by the ankles and pulls him down the bed. In most situations, Harry’s physical strength is a turn on. This is not one of those times.

“ _We_ are going for a run,” Harry repeats, with possibly more enthusiasm than the first time around. “And then we’re going to come back here and make the most impressive marshmallows and yams in the history of Thanksgiving. And then, we should have just enough time to get each other off in the shower before we have to leave for the Azoffs. But only if we leave for our run right now.”

“Or,” Niall groans slowly, formulating his counter-offer, “we could skip the run, you could let me sleep for another half hour, and then I could get you off in bed, before we make the dish, and then we can go for round two in the shower?”

“Niall,” Harry drawls, a hint of admonishment in his voice. “A dog is not just for Christmas. Colin is counting on us to take him for a run.”

“Oh, that’s a low blow, Styles, using Colin against me,” Niall responds, reluctantly stumbling to his feet.

Harry presses two aspirin into Niall’s left hand, a water bottle into his right hand, and a kiss to his forehead.

“Meet me downstairs in 5.” 

∞∞∞∞

Harry already has Colin on his lead when Niall makes it to the front door. 

“OK, I’ve put the sweet potatoes on to roast, so we need to be back in 45 minutes to take them out of the oven,” Harry says, fiddling with his watch to set the timer. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, leaving something in the oven? I mean, it could end up burning the house down.” 

Harry snorts. “It’ll be fine.” 

Niall groans as Harry opens the front door, relentless California sunshine flooding in. Harry rolls his eyes and hands Niall a pair of sunglasses hooked into the collar of his t-shirt, then slides a second pair on top of his head down to cover his own eyes. 

“Let’s go.”

Harry leads the way up the street, towards the dusty brown hills rising to the north.  In deference to Niall’s hangover, or perhaps to Colin’s little legs, he sets an easier pace than normal. Niall still struggles to keep up, probably because he’s expending most of his energy on suppressing the urge to vomit. Lagging a few metres behind does let him appreciate the view of Harry’s long, lean, tan legs in running shorts, though, which is some small consolation. 

Niall is already in struggle city by the time they make it to the bottom of the canyon trail. 

“Pet!” Niall calls out as he stops, bending over with his hands on his knees and his head hanging down to catch his breath.

Harry turns and jogs backwards for a few steps before changing direction and returning to Niall.

“I’m not going to make it up the top of the canyon today,” Niall says, still gasping for breath. “Leave Colin with me, and I’ll take him over to the dog park,” he adds, gesturing to a wide, grassy enclosure at the bottom of the canyon. 

“Sure,” Harry says, nodding as he hands the lead over to Niall. “To be honest, I’m impressed you made it this far,” he adds, trying not to laugh.

“Just wait ‘til you turn 23, Styles. It’s all downhill from here, I tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, grandpa,” Harry says, laughing as he checks the time on his watch. “I’ll see you in… 26 minutes.”

“Watch out for mountain lions!” Niall calls out after him as Harry turns on his heels and sprints up the steep canyon trail, disappearing behind the ridge. It’s not the first time Niall has felt equal parts impressed and intimidated by how fit his boyfriend is.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, bud,” Niall says to Colin, leading him over to the park.

There are about a dozen other dogs running around inside the fenced-off park, and Niall politely smiles and nods at a few of the other dog owners as he lets Colin off his lead. The cockapoo is off in a flash, chasing after a burly brown dog. 

Niall sidles over to a strategically-placed bin, does a quick scan to check there are no camera lenses trained on him (force of habit), and then discreetly empties the contents of his stomach into the bin. He instantly feels better, and just hopes that he kept the aspirin down long enough for it to do its job.

There’s a water fountain over by the gate at the far end of the dog park, and Niall heads for it, keeping an eye on Colin as he walks over. After drinking a good half litre of water and splashing some more on his face he feels better still, and the pounding in his head has even started to subside.

He waits a few more minutes to confirm his stomach has settled before going back into the park. Colin comes running over to him almost immediately, dropping a ball he must have stolen from one of the other dogs at Niall’s feet.

“Colin, who did you steal this from?” Niall asks, shaking his head at the dog’s thieving ways.

As he bends down to pick up the ball he hears a familiar voice which makes him snap back up to standing: “Rhino! Leave him alone!”

A moment later, the brown dog that Colin had been chasing earlier leaps directly over the cockapoo and lunges for the ball, almost knocking Niall over in the process.

“Woah, buddy!” Niall exclaims as he takes a step back to regain his balance.

He senses more than sees that someone is running for the dog, and the next thing he knows, his former bandmate is in front of him, grabbing the dog by its collar.

“Not cool, Rhino,” Zayn chastises the dog. “That’s not how we treat friends.”

And then he looks up at Niall, a little apprehensively, as if trying to gauge Niall’s reaction.

Niall’s mouth is wide open, in shock.

Zayn shifts his gaze back to the dog. “You haven’t met them before, but these are my old friends,” Zayn goes on.

“Meet Colin,” Zayn says, directing Rhino towards the other dog. “We go way back, don’t we Colin?” Zayn says, smiling at the dog and reaching out his free hand to stroke Colin’s fluffy blonde hair.

“And this is Niall,” Zayn says cautiously. He crouches down to pick up one of Rhino’s paws, and holds it out to Niall. “Herro, nice to meet you Niall, I’m Rhino,” Zayn says, in the same doggy voice he had used when he first introduced Hatchi to the boys.

Niall can’t help but crack a grin as he crouches down to shake Rhino’s paw.

“Nice to meet you too, Rhino,” Niall says, stroking down the dog’s back before standing back up.

“Now, I hope you two are going to play nice,” Zayn says to Rhino, letting go of his collar.

Rhino takes off, with Colin chasing after him.

Zayn watches them for a moment, and then turns to Niall.

“Hey, bro,” Zayn says, sounding nervous now that there are no dogs around to diffuse the tension.

“Christ, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Niall says, smiling as he shakes his head at Zayn, like he can’t quite believe who is in front of him.

“20 months, give or take,” Zayn replies, shrugging. “How’ve you been?”

“Never better,” Niall says, smiling a little bit wider as he realises that he genuinely means it.

“That’s good, that’s good man,” Zayn says, nodding. “Glad to hear it.”

“And yourself?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, good, yeah,” Zayn says, still nodding.  “Got mum and the girls out here for a couple of weeks.”

“So you’ve escaped to the dog park for some time to yourself, hey?” Niall says, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, something like that,” Zayn laughs. “You know me too well.”

Niall smiles softly, wishing it were still true.

“And you? Finally managed to lure Colin away from Ben?”

“Just for the Thanksgiving break,” Niall says, nodding. “Ben and Meri are down in -”

“Niall!” a voice calls out sharply behind them, cutting him off.

They both turn to see Harry jogging on the spot on the other side of the fence, t-shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, a sheen of sweat over his tattooed skin.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. You know, before it burns down. I’ll meet you back there,” Harry says directly to Niall, pointedly ignoring Zayn.

And he’s off and running before Niall even has a chance to respond.

Niall turns back to Zayn. “Sorry about that.”

“Pretty much what I was expecting, to be honest,” Zayn says, shrugging. “So, it’s true then? You and Harry?”

“Yep. Me and Harry,” Niall says, nodding.

“That’s cool, man. You always did make each other very happy.”

“Still do. More than ever,” Niall says a little abruptly, not really wanting to get into his relationship with someone he hasn’t seen in almost two years. “Look, I actually do need to get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. But hey, would you like to catch up, proper like? Maybe come over to my new place some time? Harry too, if he wants to.”

Niall chews on his lip for a moment, thinking it over. “Yeah, maybe. Look, I’ll get your new number from Caroline, and give you a call.”

“Cool, yeah, sounds good,” Zayn says. “It’s good to see you, man,” he adds, and leans in just a little bit, like he wants to go in for a hug but he’s not quite sure if Niall is up for it.

“Say hi to your mum and sisters from me,” Niall says as he turns away, looking for Colin. 

∞∞∞∞ 

When he gets home, Niall can hear music playing in the kitchen, the new Frank Ocean album. He lets Colin off his lead, toes off his running shoes, and wanders in to find Harry studying a recipe on his iPad, a tray of roast sweet potatoes cooling on the marble countertop.

Harry looks up when he walks in. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” Niall says, nodding, and opens the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “Good run?”

“Very invigorating,” Harry replies, looking back down at the iPad.

 “So,” Niall says slowly, unscrewing the lid of the bottle. “Are we going to talk about what just happened back at the dog park?”

 “Hmmmm, no, not today,” Harry says dismissively, eyes on the iPad, avoiding Niall’s gaze.

 “Harry,” Niall sighs. “You can’t just pretend he doesn’t exist. He’s invited us over to his place, to catch up. And I think we should go. Mend some fences and all that.”

"Like I said, Niall, not today. We can talk about it later. But right now I’m focused on having the best Thanksgiving ever. And I don’t want anyone ruining that. Least of all him. So can we please just get started on this dish?”

Niall takes a long swig of water, contemplating actually saying no to Harry for once. Saying enough with putting difficult things in a deal with later basket, and never actually getting around to dealing with them.

Instead he puts the water bottle back in the fridge, then walks over to lean against the counter next to Harry.

“Tomorrow, OK? We need to talk about it tomorrow. Now, what do we need for this recipe?”

Harry smiles down at the iPad. “It’s pretty simple really. Nigella says we need the sweet potatoes, lime juice, cinnamon, butter, and sea salt. And marshmallows, of course.”

“Nigella?” Niall queries. “Really? That doesn’t seem right. Surely we should be using an American recipe for this. Bobby Flay, or Martha Stewart at least.”

“You would think so,” Harry agrees, “but, I feel like Nigella’s going to bring a touch of British elegance to this dish. And, as you know, Niall, the Azoffs are classy people.”

Niall laughs, walking back over to the fridge. “You said butter, right?”

“Yep, let’s use the French one,” Harry says, putting the iPad down and turning to the spice rack in search of Ceylon cinnamon. 

∞∞∞∞

After getting each other off in the shower, as Harry had promised, Niall helps Harry style his hair. He’s keeping short back and sides, but has grown it longer on top. Niall sits Harry down in front of the dressing table mirror, blasts some hot air through his hair, and rubs a skerrick of gel into it. He then ties it back into the tiniest of ponytails.

They switch places, and Harry blow dries Niall’s hair so it swoops over to the right. Somehow they’re both better at styling each other’s hair than their own. It’s a nice perk of having a live-in boyfriend. Or being a live-in boyfriend, technically, given that Niall is the one staying at Harry’s house.

“What do you think I should I wear?” Niall asks, following Harry into the walk-in wardrobe.

“Wear that new Dries Van Noten shirt Ellie sent you,” Harry says, wriggling into a pair of black skinny jeans.

Niall has noticed that Harry will never offer unsolicited fashion advice, but whenever Niall asks him for it, he always has a firm opinion.

“What, this one?” Niall asks, holding up a navy blue shirt in a bold geometric print.

“Yes!” Harry exclaims, his eyes lighting up. “It’s going to look incredible on you.”

It’s a strange paradox of super-stardom that the more Niall can afford to spend $800 on a shirt, the more likely he is to be sent one for free. Only to inspire other people who probably can’t afford it to want to buy one. It makes him feel a little uncomfortable, when he stops to think about it.

But Harry always tells him not to overthink it. At the end of the day, they’re just clothes. And everyone’s got to wear clothes. So the important thing is just to look good - and feel good - in what you are wearing, at least according to Harry.

“Glasses or no glasses?” Niall asks, watching Harry pull on his favourite Burberry sweater.

Harry walks over to a shelf and runs a hand lightly over the pairs of glasses laid out on it, until settling on a pair of tortoiseshell specs.

“These ones, I think,” he says, and walks over to slip them on Niall’s face. He takes a step back to appraise the situation and nods approvingly. “That’s a strong look, Niall Horan.”

“Styled by Styles?” Niall says, raising his eyebrows at him.

“It is a fallback career option,” Harry says, laughing. “You know, if this movie business doesn’t work out.”

“Or the singing. Or the song-writing.”

“Well, they do say millennials will change careers four times in their lives, so I’m not going to completely rule it out as an option just yet,” Harry says, sliding his rings on.

“I’m pretty sure it’s never going to come to that,” Niall says, checking himself in the full-length mirror.

Harry comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Niall’s waist, resting his chin on Niall’s shoulder.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Niall says, smiling softly, eyes meeting in the mirror.

Harry smiles back at him. “We have a lot to be thankful for, don’t we?”

“So much,” Niall agrees. “It’s been a good year, hasn't it?”

“The best. Better than I ever could have imagined. Mostly thanks to you,” Harry says, and presses a kiss into Niall’s cheek.

Niall feels his nose getting tingly and tries to blink back the wetness welling in his eyes. He turns and wraps his arms around Harry, burying his face in the curve of Harry’s neck.

“You’re my favourite person, and I love you more than anything,” Niall says. He can feel the muscles moving in Harry’s neck, and even with his eyes closed he knows exactly how Harry is smiling.

“More than golf?” Harry asks, as Niall lets him go.

“So much more than golf,” Niall laughs.

“More than playing guitar?” Harry asks.

“Doesn’t even come close.”

“More than Nando’s?"

“Ooooooh, that’s a tough one,” Niall says, shaking his head. “I’m going to have to get back to you on that.”

“Even if I come a close second, I’d still be pretty happy,” Harry says, grinning.

“I don’t think you’ve ever come second to anyone. Or anything.”

“Well, third, once. But I think we both ended up coming out on top.” 

∞∞∞∞

They turn up to the Azoffs’ house bearing a casserole dish wrapped in foil, Harry practically palpitating with excitement as he rings the doorbell.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Shelli!” Harry exclaims as she opens the door, “We brought marshmallows and yams!” He draws her into a warm hug, then disappears into the kitchen to give Craig, their chef, instructions on when it needs to go in the oven to finish it off.

Shelli shows Niall through to the backyard. Between the swimming pool and a row of palm trees a long table is set for Thanksgiving dinner, against a backdrop of bright pink bougainvillea cascading down a garden wall. Under the clear, blue sky and endless Southern Californian sunshine, it’s hard to believe that it’s really late November. Days like these make it easy to understand why Harry is so deeply in love with LA.

Niall has met the Azoffs a few times but he is still a little in awe of Irv, a man he always thinks of in title case: The Most Powerful Person in Pop Music. He somehow ends up seated next to Irv at the dining table, and suspects that Harry might have had a hand in orchestrating it.

“Son, I hear you have an album coming out soon,” Irv says, turning to Niall.

“That would be correct,” Niall says, nodding vigorously.

“I’ve been hearing some good things about it, you must be excited for the release.”

“Excited. Nervous. Mostly nervous.”

“He shouldn’t be nervous,” Harry says, sitting down on Niall’s other side and slipping an arm behind his back. “The album is brilliant, you’re going to _love_ it, Irv. I can’t wait ‘til you hear it.”

Irv smiles fondly at Harry’s enthusiasm. “And will you be touring with it next year?” Irv asks.

“Maybe some of the summer festivals at home. If they want me,” Niall adds.

“Of course they’re going to want you,” Harry says, rubbing Niall’s back.

“And a short tour here too,” Niall goes on. “But it kind of depends on what this one is going to be up to,” Niall says, turning to smile at Harry.

“Look, here’s some unsolicited advice for you,” Irv says, leaning in. “You don’t want to make the same mistakes your other bandmate made. And as long as you have a good team behind you, they should be on top of this. But what you’re going to want to do is -.”

“ _Dad!_ ” Jeff says despairingly, cutting Irv off as he lays a monster-sized roast turkey down on the table.

“ _Jeff!_ ” Irv replies, rolling his eyes at his son in mock exasperation.

“What have we said about discussing business at family meals?” Jeff says.

“OK, OK,” Irv says, holding his hands up in defeat. But when Jeff is out of earshot, Irv leans in to tell Niall to find him after they’ve eaten, if he wants to talk touring strategy.

Harry follows Jeff back into the house to lend a hand with the side dishes, and returns a few minutes later with the yam dish, the marshmallows tortoiseshelled by the heat of the oven. He is practically bursting with excitement about his contribution to Thanksgiving, and Niall snaps a few photos of him serving it up, to send to Anne and Bobby.

Thanksgiving dinner lives up to - or perhaps even surpasses - Harry’s sky-high expectations. The food is abundant and delicious, and everyone agrees that Harry’s marshmallows and yams are the best they’ve ever tasted.

“ _Our_ marshmallows and yams,” Harry says, smiling proudly as he reaches for Niall’s hand and kisses the back of his palm. Seeing the way Harry lights up when he is praised by the people he loves the most is enough to justify this crime against potatoes, Niall thinks to himself.

Harry’s de facto American family are in fine form. The siblings playfully rib each other and Harry joins in, giving as good as he gets. It’s obvious how much they adore him, each of them mentioning at some point during the meal how delighted they are that Harry has finally been able to join them for Thanksgiving. And how happy they are to see him so loved up, especially with someone as genuinely charming as Niall.

Irv is thrilled to have a rapt audience in Niall for all of his favourite Eagles stories. Stories which his kids must have heard countless times before, judging by the looks they shoot each other as each story reaches its climax. But Niall is loving it, laughing uncontrollably at just how wild things got in the seventies. It makes his own touring antics seem positively tame in comparison.

After everyone eats way too much, and a few people drink a little too much, they retire to the living room to watch the Thanksgiving game. Niall doesn’t care much for American football, and he knows that Harry will quickly get bored with any game that doesn’t involve the Packers. But lounging around on a sofa is not the worst way to spend the afternoon, especially if he has Harry pressed up beside him. Jeff is on Harry’s other side, and Harry has an arm around each of them, looking as happy as Niall has ever seen him.

There was a time when Niall was almost insanely jealous of Jeff, although he never would have admitted it to anyone. He hated it when Harry would disappear immediately after their shows to see Jeff, or fly back to LA at every opportunity. He hated all of the new friends Harry was making through Jeff. He hated that Harry was playing golf with someone else.

At the same time, he understood why Harry needed a life away from the band. They all needed it. And it wasn’t like Niall didn’t have his own set of close friends. He just missed Harry so much when he wasn’t around. Because, when he was around, he orbited him like Niall was the sun, like Harry couldn’t survive without him. Having that some of the time was better than not having it at all. Except that, having it some of the time only made Niall miss it more when Harry wasn’t there.

It’s easier now, now that he knows he was never really competing with Jeff for the same thing.

When it gets to half-time in the game, Jeff jumps up from the sofa and insists that everyone else stay seated.

“I have some very special half-time entertainment for you today,” he says, as he hits mute on the TV. “It’s _very_ exclusive, I think we’re probably the first people to get to see it outside of Warner Bros. HQ,” he goes on, grinning at Harry. “And it took a lot of sweet-talking on Harry’s part to get this copy, so it goes without saying that this is not to go beyond this room. Without further ado, I present to you: the first official trailer for Dunkirk.”

“What?!?” Niall squawks, turning to grab Harry’s arm.

Harry smiles bashfully, all eyes in the room on him until the trailer starts and they shift to focus on the TV. The words WE SHALL FIGHT IN FRANCE flash up on the screen as the camera swoops over thousands of British soldiers spread out along the Dunkirk shoreline, the opening bars of the soaring Hans Zimmer score heightening the epic drama of the scene. A collective cheer erupts from the audience as the trailer cuts to a medium shot of the young soldiers, Harry among them.

Niall’s heart swells watching Harry on the screen. He’s good. Really good. Even in the brief glimpses of a movie trailer he just seems to inhabit the role, in a way that makes Niall forget about Harry Styles: popstar, or even Harry Styles: boyfriend.

The trailer ends with the words WE SHALL NEVER SURRENDER over a close-up of Harry, a look of steely determination on his face.

Everyone claps and cheers wildly, Niall the loudest of them all. Harry is pulled up onto his feet and passed around the room, each Azoff wanting a chance to hug him and tell him how impressed they are, how well he has done.

When the football game resumes, Harry sinks back into the couch, and Niall drapes himself over his shoulder.

“Absolutely smashed it,” Niall whispers into his ear.

“You don’t think my acting could maybe be a tiny bit better?” Harry says, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Niall laughs softly. “Christ, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Harry agrees. 

∞∞∞∞

Shelli tries to get them to stay for supper, but they beg off, claiming that Colin will go mental if they don’t get back to him soon. She sends them home with a pound of turkey, and an entire pumpkin pie that Craig whipped up especially for Harry.

Colin is indeed exceedingly happy to see them, skittering across the terrace in excitement and jumping up on them as soon as he’s inside the house. Niall fixes dinner for the pup, leaving Harry to choose a movie.

When Niall joins him in the lounge room, Harry has The Ice Storm ready to play. Niall curls up next to him on the couch as the film opens on a dark and icy Thanksgiving night in New England. Colin jumps up into Niall’s lap, and Niall buries his hand in the dog’s soft, blonde hair. As the film goes on, Niall wraps his other arm around Harry’s waist tighter and tighter, as if his warmth will stave off the sublime coldness and aloneness seeping from the screen.

He must nod off at some point, because he wakes to find his head in Harry’s lap, Harry’s hand in Niall’s hair. He blinks slowly, taking in the end credits scrolling up the TV screen, then rolls his head up to look at Harry. They smile at each other for a long moment, Harry’s fingertips moving in soft circles over Niall’s scalp.

“What did I miss?” Niall eventually asks.

“Oh, you know, a little light heartbreak. Infidelity. Family disfunction. Drug abuse. Minor character death. All the hallmarks of a good drama.”

“Hmmmm, I think I prefer our Thanksgiving."

“Definitely,” Harry agrees.

“Best Thanksgiving ever?”

Harry’s smile stretches just a little bit wider. “The very, very best.” 

∞∞∞∞

Niall volunteers to take Colin outside for a wee before getting him settled in for the night.

“Meet you upstairs in 5?” he says, then pulls Harry into a deep, wet kiss, the kind which carries the promise of more.

“I’ll be ready and waiting,” Harry says, with a lopsided smile.  

When he gets to the top of the stairs, he can hear music coming from the bedroom, Frank Ocean again. Harry has been listening to it on repeat, ever since they got back to LA.

Niall pauses in the doorway, feels a warm thrill pass through him as he takes in the scene in front of him: Harry lying face down on the bed, naked, right arm reaching back to work his fingers inside himself, pale curves of his arse aglow in the soft lamplight. His other arm pillows his head, tilted to the side, eyes closed and tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration.

Niall leans against the doorframe, suddenly feeling a little unsteady on his feet as he unbuttons his shirt, then removes his trousers, then his glasses. Harry must not have noticed him enter the room, because he gasps in surprise when Niall’s hand wraps tightly around his wrist.

“Oi, what happened to waiting?” Niall demands.

Harry slowly opens his eyes and turns to look over his shoulder at Niall, pupils huge in the low light.

“I’m ready ‘cause I wasn’t waiting,” Harry says with a smirk.

Niall pulls Harry’s wrist back slowly until his fingers slip out, then tangles their fingers together, wiping the slick onto his own.

“Ready for what, exactly?” Niall asks as he wraps his other hand around Harry’s wrist and pins his arm to his back.

“Everything you’ve got,” Harry murmurs, then breathes in sharply as Niall slides two fingers inside him.

“I said everything you’ve - aaaaahhhhh,” Harry moans, as Niall hits the spot.

∞∞∞∞

Niall wakes in the middle of the night to find the bedroom bathed in moonlight, so bright he can’t fall back to sleep. He rolls away from Harry and slips out of bed, padding over to the window to pull the curtains shut. There had been a full moon when they’d landed at LAX, and now there’s a full moon again, or close to it.  He gazes up at it for a moment, but is distracted by something moving in the garden down below. 

In his sleep haze he thinks it’s Colin. But no, this dog is taller, leaner, sneakier. And then he’s suddenly wide awake with fear for what this dog might do to Colin, until he remembers Colin is warm and safe, asleep in the laundry room. He watches the coyote slink across the lawn to the swimming pool, pausing with its nose hovering above the water, almost as if it's studying its own reflection in the moonlight. And then it drops its head down to drink deeply from the pool.

“We can, if you want,” Harry says quietly, from across the room.

“Huh?” Niall responds, turning away from the window, surprised to find Harry awake.

“We can go see Zayn,” Harry says. “If that’s what you want.”

“Oh, we’re allowed to talk about it now?” Niall asks, as he slides the curtains shut. When he turns back towards Harry, the room is very, very dark.

“Past midnight. Thanksgiving’s over,” Harry says through the darkness.

It takes Niall a few more seconds to make out the shape of the bed. He walks back over and slides in beside Harry.

“I don’t know if I want to, exactly,” Niall says, fumbling for Harry’s hand, then lacing their fingers together. “But I feel like we ought to. Hear him out.”

“OK,” Harry says, squeezing Niall’s hand tightly. “Let’s do it.”

A few minutes pass, and he thinks that Harry has drifted back to sleep. But then there’s a whisper in his ear.

“Niall, you never told me if you liked the marshmallows and yams.”

Niall giggles. “I guess it was... not quite as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

“Don’t hold back, you can tell me what you really think,” Harry says.

“OK, then,” Niall says, rolling onto his side to face Harry in the murky darkness. “It was all sorts of wrong. Come on, marshmallows with potatoes? On the same plate as turkey? How is that even a thing?”

“I know, right,” Harry says, reaching a hand up to softly stroke the hair on Niall’s chest. “Americans are weird.”

“So weird,” Niall agrees. “It’s probably why you fit in so well here.”

Niall feels Harry laughing softly against his skin. “Are you calling me a weirdo?”

“A very charming, talented, generous, warm-hearted weirdo,” Niall says, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Niall’s eyes fall shut and he is almost asleep when Harry speaks again.

“It’s good to try new things, though. Even if you don’t think you’re going to like them. Sometimes you’re proven right, sometimes you’re proven wrong.”

“Life is full of surprises,” Niall says, sleepily.

“Night, Ni,” Harry says, pressing his lips to Niall’s forehead.

“Night, pet,” Niall says, or plans to say, but he’s asleep before the words make it out of his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not on Tumblr but I am on Instagram. Come talk to me there:  
> [super.rich.lads](http://www.instagram.com/super.rich.lads)


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